Thunder
by A Reviewing Reader
Summary: "...No matter what obstacles you face, love always pulls through." It's surprising what a little jar of salsa could do. My entry to LiveLaughLoveReadForever's Peddie Songfic Challenge! My song is "Thunder." Enjoy!


My entry to LiveLaughLoveReadForever's Peddie songfic challenge! As you can tell by the title, the song is "Thunder" by Boys Like Girls. For some reason, this song spoke to me and this fic is the result of it's speaking.

Necessary words in **bold**. It's 4,442 words! So. Many. Words. O_O And this isn't necessarily AU because there are similar themes to the show, yet Patricia and Eddie and everyone meet in a different way.

Oh, and this is sort of intertwined with my other fic Jealous?, since it's kind of what happened to Patricia and what happened afterwards. :)

Anyway, hope you enjoy. :D

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><p>-Eddie's POV-<p>

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a snarky redhead shouted at me.

I put my hands up in surrender. What was _her_ problem? "Sorry," I said, annoyed.

"Just help me fix this, idiot!" she demanded, gesturing wildly at a bunch of boxes that had fallen out of her hands, their contents scattering everywhere. I saw red plastic cups, several liter bottles of various sodas, four packages of plastic-wrapped napkins, tortilla chips, and salsa.

"Sorry," I repeated again with an eye roll, crouching down and helping her put the things back in the boxes.

As I picked up the salsa jar, red liquid began to run down my hands. Either I was bleeding or the salsa was leaking. I dropped it in surprise, shattering the glass.

"What did you do that for?" she screeched.

"Sorry!" I said for the third time, shaking off the red liquid. I peered at my hand, seeing only a few drops of red. Well, I certainly wasn't bleeding. "It was already leaking!" I tried to say.

"You're paying for that y'know!" she snapped, picking up her boxes and marching off.

And I was left there, startled. Instead of following her orders and buying the salsa, I put my hands in my pockets and walked off in the opposite direction. I didn't think about the shattered glass jar on the ground. It wasn't mine, so it wasn't my problem.

. . .

For the rest of the day, I walked around the city of Southampton in a daze, not knowing what to do.

Why was I here, in England, you may ask? Well, my mom had forced me to visit my dad, Eric Sweet, for two weeks at the end of summer, right before school began, just because of some custody agreement they had settled on a gazillion years ago.

My dad was always busy with his own life and his job, so I could pretty much do whatever I wanted to.

So as I walked down the pier, I was left alone with my thoughts. And I couldn't get that redhead out of my mind.

Maybe it was her snarky attitude that I liked? Maybe it was just how hot she was in shorts and a t-shirt?

I bumped into someone and repeated what Redhead had said earlier, "Hey! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry!" a dark, curly-haired girl apologized. She was also holding boxes in her hands.

What's up with all of these hot girls holding boxes of stuff while prancing around the beach in shorts?

"Wait a minute." She looked curiously at me. "Aren't you the guy who broke that salsa? Did you buy a new one?" she asked.

"Not you, too," I grumbled.

She rolled her eyes at me, and grabbed my arm. She dragged me over to the sand, where it looks like some party was about to begin.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

She didn't answer. I groaned as she pulled me over to the center of the hustle-and-bustle of the preparations.

There she was, in all of her irritating glory. Redhead was helping someone fix a set of lights that would hang across the sand. She turned to the other girl, smiling, but then the smile faded when she saw me.

"What're you doing here?"

I was about to respond, but she added, "Just never mind! Mara, help me out here, yeah?"

The girl, Mara, followed Redhead to another area of the beach, where a few tables were being set up.

"What do you want me to do?" I called.

The redhead came back over, looking me over. I saw she had pretty greenish-blue eyes, and right now those eyes looked very mad at me. I smirked at her, scanning over her just like she was doing to me, although I had a different reason for doing so.

I saw that she looked _really_ good in that shirt, and it kind of rose up just a little above her waist as she crossed her arms, showing off her pale skin. Her shorts were really short, showing off her long legs. They ended in flip-flop-covered feet: turning her into the perfect beach girl.

"What are you looking at?" she asked in that English accent.

"Oh nothing," I said, looking back into those green-blue orbs of hers. "Nothing at all."

I searched those eyes, for some answer as to why I was so interested in her. But the only answer I got was annoyance and just a little bit of hatred.

"Good. Now go do something," she commanded.

I smiled sweetly at her and we separated, going our own ways. I went to the edge of the beach, where the sand and the water met the pier, and she went somewhere else. I was left alone with my thoughts once more.

But no matter what I did, I couldn't stop thinking of that girl. I tried playing Angry Birds, and that ended badly. I even tried playing Tetris, one of the easiest games ever, and I failed the first, and easiest, level!

God, why was I thinking this way? She's. Just. A. Girl. She's no one special to me, just a random person who was a smart aleck to me.

I saw a few people stringing lights near the pier and I saw that other girl, Mara. I walked up to her, helping her group out with the tables that would probably hold the snacks for whatever they were doing this. There were two other girls and some wannabe guy who had attempted to look strong when trying to do a table by himself.

What an idiot.

I set up a table with Mara locking the legs for me. I saw the other two girls eyeing me after I finished with the last table, and the guy was shooting daggers at me.

Oh well. That's what he gets for being a wannabe.

I asked Mara what Redhead's name was, and she asked me why. I avoided the question and she told me Redhead's name: "Patricia."

Patricia, hmm? I wouldn't forget that name for a while.

I asked Mara what they were setting all of this up for, and she explained it all to me. It was for something called the "Summer Festival" that happened every year at the end of summer. Apparently it was the _highlight_ of the summer.

Woo. The Brits have all the fun.

Because I was totally bored and had nothing better to do, I continued to help them out.

Redhead, Patricia, came up to me as I began to unwrap a set of the red plastic cups that I had seen before. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Do you always say 'what'?" I remarked calmly, about to set the stack of cups on the table.

She knocked the cups from my hands, dropping them everywhere. I groaned, and saw her stomp away indignantly. I grinned and decided that my goal of the day should be to annoy this chick for as long as possible. I waved to her, even though she couldn't see me.

"By the way! I'm Eddie!" I shouted to her.

I saw her look back at me with a confused expression, probably wondering what I was up to. And if I could help it, she would never know.

I bent down and grabbed all of the cups that were strewn around, piling them up in my arms. I began to put them back on the table, shaking my head and planning out more ideas to annoy my new friend Patricia.

I found a couple of girls who were milling around and turned on the charm. There was a cute blonde and a sassy brunette, and I could tell they were flirting with me. But I could tell that I was a little off of my game. Why?

I went to go get the girls some drinks and had to fight my way through the rapidly increasing crowd. I was tossed and turned in the moving crowd, and finally, I gave up on trying to find the drinks. As the music started, signaling the Summer Festival's beginning, I spotted a familiar redhead standing against one of the tables, a light hanging right above her head.

The golden orb lit up her red hair, revealing the hidden highlights of her hair: streaks of almond brown and scarlet red. The shadows and light cast her in a great way, making it look like she was standing in a spotlight on a stage of some sort.

I approached her, crossing my arms, and remarked, "Nice weather we're having, hmm?"

She looked at me strangely. "What?" Patricia asked.

"Do you always say 'what'?" I repeated from before.

And wow. She actually smiled. It was a tiny smile, but I would take it. "What on _earth_ are you talking about?" she snapped.

I held my hands up. "Just trying to start a conversation."

"And _weather_ is the best that you can come up with?" she sneered.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Uh, would you like to dance, maybe?"she suggested. I looked around at the crowd in front of us and noticed in one area a round of catcalls rang through. My curiosity was peaked, but I remembered that she had hinted that she wanted to dance. I saw her roll her eyes at me as I stared, dumfounded, at the crowd in front of me. I don't dance. I just don't.

_Remember, plan today is to annoy this chick_, I reminded myself. So I threw away my pride I had and decided to take her up on her offer.

"Okay then. Do you wanna dance?" I asked, holding out a hand.

"I don't dance," she stated.

"Neither do I. We can look stupid together," I smirked. "Besides, your friends seem a little busy."

Mara was dancing with some blonde guy, standing really close and both of them grinning. I had seen Patricia talking to another girl, a blonde, who was nowhere to be seen. Patricia had no real excuse to use against me.

I clasped her hand and pulled her into the undulating crowd, where we danced and looked like total idiots together.

Thank god the DJ hadn't played a slow song. I can't dance in general to save my life, never mind slow dancing. Right now, all I was doing was what I saw in the movies. I spun her around, took her hands, and we just kind of shuffled back and forth.

She laughed at the shuffling and my limited knowledge of dancing. She even whispered to me, with a laugh, "Lovely dancing skills you have."

And for some reason, every time I heard her laugh, it made me smile.

"Like you could do better," I countered.

Soon the music changed again, and I made a mental note to strangle the guy who was DJ-ing. Why did he switch it to a slow song _now_? But, Patricia didn't seem to want to keep dancing, since she had asked if I wanted to talk by the shoreline.

Thank god, I said to myself. I agreed and we broke away from the swaying crowd.

We were walking along the shoreline, occasionally turning back to look at the Summer Festival that was in full swing. A loud, cacophony of music could be heard from even way out here.

"You're name's Eddie, right?" Patricia asked.

"Yeah, my name's Eddie." I cut a sideways glance at her. "You're Patricia?"

"Who told you that?"

"So I guessed right?" She laughed.

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" I brought up casually.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" she remarked wryly.

"That depends."

"On what?" Patricia turned to face me, hands on her hips.

"If you say yes."

She smiled again. Sighing, she rose her eyebrows at me. "Fine. Meet me here at ten o'clock sharp."

"So does that mean it's a date?" I inquired.

Before she could reply, someone interrupted us,

"Hey Patricia! Where have you been?" Mara yelled from over the music. We saw her figure standing with that blonde guy and they waved to us.

We lifted our hands in a wave but continued to walk down the shoreline.

"Hey, look, the fireworks," Patricia pointed out, apparently forgetting our last conversation when she had been interrupted.

I raised my head to the clear, black night sky. A little red light shot up into the sky, then disappeared for a moment. Then, an explosion of color lit up the sky, making me smile.

I glanced at Patricia, who seemed to peer at me, and she mouthed, "It's a date."

And yeah, it was true; so far, this was the highlight of my summer.

_. . ._

Eight-thirty in the morning. An hour and a half until my date. For once, I had actually gotten up a few hours earlier than usual. I mean, it was summer, after all, when I can sleep in for hours on end and stay up as late as possible. But I was really nervous and got up at eight.

Yeah, eight. As in the number that looks like a snowman. That was four hours earlier than I would normally get up. What was wrong with me lately?

I shrugged off my thoughts and changed into a t-shirt and shorts. Like I would wear pants in the summer? I'm not stupid.

I saw that I still had a while until I had to meet Patricia at the beach, so I found a bowl in one of cupboards in the house, a gallon of milk in a hidden corner of the fridge, and a box of Fiber One cereal in the back of the pantry.

I asked myself why my dad would have Fiber One cereal. He didn't need to lose weight-hell, he needed to _gain_ weight, he was scrawny and thin as a toothpick. So why would he need Fiber One?

_Whatever_, I told myself and prepped a bowl of cereal. I found a spoon in a drawer near the sink and began to eat the food.

And that's when he came in.

"Edison?" he asked.

"Hey," I said over a mouthful of cereal.

"Is that my cereal? And did you finish off my milk?"

"Yup. Thanks, Sweetie," I replied.

"Stop. Calling. Me. That," Sweetie ordered, his face purpling.

I raised my eyebrow, then brought the cereal bowl to my mouth. I drank all of the milk left in the bowl, then dropped it and my spoon into the sink.

"See ya, _Dad_," I said, putting emphasis on the last bit.

I waltzed past him, seeing him cringe at the word "Dad", and out of the house. No, not really waltzed, it's a figure of speech.

As I headed to the beach, I checked my phone. It was a little bit before ten, and I stood on the shoreline, my feet getting soaked with the softly lapping waves of water. Not that I minded, really. It was actually kind of nice- Oh god. I'm starting to sound like my dad.

Anyway. I waited for Patricia, turning my carefully made hair into a tumbleweed in this stupid wind. I worked hard to gel most of it down, and now it looked like crap.

I tried to pat it down in an effort to keep it calm, but it didn't work. A snide remark made me swivel around in surprise.

"Having a hair dilemma?" Patricia was there, wearing a similar outfit to what she was wearing yesterday.

"Uh, no. Just trying to get the, uh, sand out of my hair, and, uh-" I stammered. Why am I stammering? I never stammer.

Patricia raised an eyebrow, a smug smile on her face. "Yeah, sure."

I said, "Enough about me, though I love to talk about myself." Patricia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Come. On. Let's go start our _date_, shall we?" She began to walk toward the pier and I followed.

The next few hours were full of playing carnival games at the pier, going back to the beach and splashing each other with water, and just walking by the shoreline like we did before. When it got dark, she told me that she needed to get home, and that's where we left.

For the next few days, we kept hanging out together-sometimes with Mara and her boyfriend, Jerome; other times it was with Amber and this other guy named Alfie.

But finally, it was just the two of us, and we were doing our favorite pastime: yup-walking on the beach. But there was a twist: we were holding hands. Wow, shocking, right?

"Man, this weather is **insane**," I said. "Wish it was this nice where I'm from."

"Yeah, it's usually not this nice," Patricia said.

"How is it usually?" I asked.

"Like in the 15 degrees area," she remarked.

I stared at her. "You have 15 degree weather during the _summer_? What's it like during the winter?"

Patricia laughed, raising an eyebrow. "In Celsius, stupid."

"Oh." **Fail**, Eddie, I told myself. Now, I felt like an idiot.

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" Patricia asked.

"Now _you_ are asking _me_ out?" I said, surprised.

She opened her mouth to reply, but did not seem to have an answer. Finally, she had an answer, "I just need to get that salsa from you. You still need to pay me back."

I smirked, not buying her blatant lie. I said, "Well, sorry but I'm not gonna be able to pay you back."

"Oh, c'mon. You owe me something," she whined.

I leaned toward her for a kiss. I mean, come on, who wouldn't want a kiss from me? That would forgive any debt I needed to pay. But she put her free hand in front of my face and I stopped in my tracks.

"Hold on there, Casanova," she interrupted me. "Going a little fast, there."

Icy, cold rejection washed over me. I dropped her hand and cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment. I knew my face was turning red.

"Uh, sorry," I said. "Um, about my not paying you back, I can't do it because today's my last day in England and I'm getting on a plane back to America tomorrow."

Patricia amused smile dropped, replaced by a disbelieving expression. "You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head slowly.

"You've got to be joking," she insisted.

I tried to spin this in a joking tone. "What, are you gonna miss me?"

Patricia looked incredulously at me. "Yes, of course I am! How can you think about this as a joke?"

"Whoa, calm down. This wasn't going to last that long, was it? I mean, long-distance relationships don't work, y'know."

"I know that! But, I just . . . I dunno," she said, turning around and putting a hand to her eyes.

"A-Are you crying?" I questioned, stunned.

She whirled around, an angry scowl on her face. "No, I'm not. Why would I cry over someone like you? Someone who just goes around, hanging out with girls and expecting them to fall for him, when in reality: it. Would. Never. Happen."

Ouch. That hurt. So she didn't like me? I mean, I didn't just charm girls and hang out with them just to get . . . I stopped. Well, I guess I do kind of do that.

How does she know all about me?

"Oh yeah? Well, I-I never even wanted to dance with you!" I said, beginning to yell.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really? I'll have you know that you might want to use a breath mint, because you smell like a tuna fish."*

"You know what? We are done," I shouted.

Patricia strode away, throwing over her shoulder, "We were never even together to begin with!"

. . .

It was the day after my and Patricia's last date, and I was on the plane, heading back to America. But, my head was still in England.

We broke up. Patricia and I are done. We broke up. Stop thinking about her! It was just some stupid summer romance like in those crappy chick flicks. She's just some girl.

"Yeah right. You actually had something there," I told myself. I put my head in my hands. Shaking my head, I tried to clear my thoughts.

But as I closed my eyes, all I could see was Patricia laughing in the sun, the sea water sparkling around her as I chased and splashed her.

I groaned. Why couldn't I stop thinking about her? Why why why? I leaned my head against the top of the seat and glanced at the old woman sitting beside me, reading a book with lights coming out of her glasses.*

"Hey, lady," I said.

"Yes?" she replied, sounding annoyed.

"Do you know anything about girls?"

She gave me a deadpan expression, and I realized what I said. "I-I mean, do you know anything about guys _liking_ girls?"

She gave me a half-smile. "Yes, I do. That would be love, dear."

"Love," I repeated. Then, I scoffed. Love-shmove.* My parents had been "in love" and I can see how well that turned out.

"I can see you're doubtful. Don't worry, I was, too. But, dear, it exists. No matter what obstacles you face, love always pulls through." She patted my hand, a sweet smile on her face.

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning to the plane window and looking down. I could see, in the distance, a thin line that divided the sand from the sea, and I wondered if Patricia was walking on the beach like we usually did.

But I knew that this was a different beach, probably not even in England. It could be Ireland or even the East Coast; I wasn't keeping track of how far we had flown already.

I took out my phone and studied it for a moment. Should I turn it on? Maybe I should text her and apologize . . . But the look the flight attendant lady gave me was warning enough for me to remove my finger from my phone's power button.

And then I shook my head. I was going to apologize? It's not my fault that I had to leave! That was my parents' plan, I couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't my fault.

I sighed, closing my eyes again. I needed some sleep, maybe things would make sense in the morning . . .

I woke up the next day with the sunlight shining on my face. I stretched my arms out as I slowly woke up. I didn't feel the plane moving, so I unbuckled my seatbelt and got up. I took my luggage out of the overhead compartment and walked out of the plane, into the airport.

As I walked through the airport, I looked around, the idea of being back home slowly sinking in. I saw a Mexican gift shop, with a jar of that same salsa that I dropped that day when I met Patricia, and a grin spread across my face.

I hurried into the shop, and bought the salsa. I tucked it into my jacket pocket and held it there on the long bus ride home.

When I got home, I grabbed a box, some tape, and a Sharpie, and prepped the salsa to be sent to England.

I looked at my phone, under my previous GPS uses, and found the address I needed. I remembered that Patricia and I had once lost track of time and I, being the courteous person I was, got her address and walked her home using my GPS.

I scribbled the address on the box and then picked up the tape to finish packaging the salsa. But then, I had another idea. I found a piece of scrap paper and snatched a pencil from a coffee table. I wrote out a message, grinning at the note.

I added it into the box and then taped it up. Calling to whoever was in the house that I'd be back, I took the bus to head to the post office. I mailed the package, giving the guy at the desk a quick order, and smiled as I saw him put it in the international pile that was going to be sent out tomorrow.*

I walked out of the post office, and repeated the message to myself,

"Hope you like the salsa. See you next summer."

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><p>First *: Reference to Patricia and Eddie sharing a tuna sandwich. XD<p>

Second *: I mean those epic glasses with the lights on the side, in case you didn't realize what I'm talking about.

Third *: I have no idea about the postal service. I just guessed, so sorry if I am totally wrong.

And sorry if this was really rushed and bad . . . But please review anyway?

~Ary


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